Tag Archives: history

Always Already New

Always Already New: Media, History, And The Data Of CultureAlways Already New: Media, History, And The Data Of Culture by Lisa Gitelman
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I enjoyed this book, mainly for the author’s technique of exploring what media means in our culture by using two examples, separated in time: the phonograph and the Internet. She admits that in some ways this amounts to comparing apples to oranges, and there is definitely a creative tension in the book. Gitelman’s emphasis is not that media technologies change society and culture, but that a technology is introduced and is in turn shaped by its particular social and historical context, which then reshapes society and culture.

I define media as socially realized structures of communication, where structures include both technological forms and their associated protocols, and where communication is a cultural practice, a ritualized collocation of different people on the same mental map, sharing or engaged with popular ontologies of representation. As such, media are unique and complicated historical subjects.

It’s tempting to talk about media technologies as if their ultimate use is somehow inevitable. For example, Gitelman discusses how the initial commercial placement of the phonograph centered largely around the idea that it would transform dictation and the office. Early demonstrations intended to increase sales of the device focused on recording and playback, rather than simply playback. They didn’t initially see the market for recorded music, which would so transform the device. To some extent we’ve cynically come to expect this out of marketing and “evangelism” about media technologies all the time. But this mode of thinking is also present in purely technical discussions, which don’t account for the placement of the technology in a particular social context.

Getting a sense of the social context you are in the middle of, as opposed to one you one you are historically removed from, presents some challenges. I think this difficulty is more evident in the second part of the book which focuses on the Internet and the World Wide Web against a backdrop of libraries and bibliography. Like many others I imagine, my knowledge of JCR Licklider’s influence on the development of ARPAnet, and the Internet was largely culled from Where Wizards Stay Up Late. I had no idea, until reading Always Already New, that Licklider contracted with the Council on Library Resources (now Council on Library and Information Resources) to write a report Libraries of the Future on the topic of how computing would change libraries.

I enjoyed the discussion of the role that the Request for Comment (RFC) played on the Internet. How these documents that were initially shared via the post, helped bootstrap the technologies that would create the Internet that allowed them to be shared as electronic documents or text. I didn’t know about the RFC-Online project that Jon Postel started right before his death, to recover the earliest RFCs that had been already lost. Gitelman’s study of linking, citation and “publishing” on the Web was also really enjoyable, mainly because of her orientation to these topics:

I will argue that far from making history impossible, the interpretive space of the World Wide Web can prompt history in exciting new ways.

All this being said, I finished the book with the sneaking feeling that I needed to reread it. Gitelman’s thesis was subtle enough that it was only when I got to the end that I felt like I understood it: the strange loop that thinking and media participate in, and how difficult (and yet fruitful) it is to talk about media and their social context. Maybe this was also partly the effect of reading it on a Kindle :-)

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From Polders to Postmodernism

From Polders to Postmodernism: A Concise History of Archival TheoryFrom Polders to Postmodernism: A Concise History of Archival Theory by John Ridener
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This was a nice little find for my continuing self-education in archives. As its title suggests, it’s a short survey (less than 200 pages), that traces a series of paradigm shifts in archival theory starting in the 19th century Netherlands leading up to the present. Ridener focuses on the approaches to subjectivity and objectivity in archival theory in order to show how the theories have changed and built on each other over the last 200 years. He does a nice job of sketching the context for the theories, the changes in society and technology that drove them, as well as some interesting biographical material about individuals such as Jenkins and Schellenberg. After having just read Controlling the Past I felt like I had some exposure to contemporary thinking about archives, but was lacking some of the historical background, so this book was very helpful. I think I might have to read Schellenberg’s Modern Archives now, especially because of the NARA connection. But that might get sidelined to read more of Terry Cook’s work on macro-appraisal. My only small complaint is that I noticed quite a few typos in the first half of the book, which got a little distracting at times.

On Discovery

There’s an interesting story over at The Atlantic which discusses the important role that cataloging and archival description play in historical research. The example is a recently discovered report to the Surgeon General from Charles Leale about his treatment of Abraham Lincoln after he was shot. A few weeks ago a researcher named Helen Papaioannou discovered the report while combing a collection of correspondence to the Surgeon General looking for materials related to Lincoln for a project at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum. The Atlantic piece boldly declares in its title:

If You ‘Discover’ Something in an Archive, It’s Not a Discovery.

Then it goes on to heap accolades on the silent archivists toiling away for centuries, that made the report possible to find. I’ve done my fare share of cataloging, and put in enough time working with EAD finding aids to enjoy the pat on the back. But something about the piece struck me as odd, and it took a bit of reading of the announcement of the discovery, and listening to a NPR interview with Papaioannou to put my finger on it.

It’s very possible, of course, with the volume of material that archives hold, for a particular professional to not know exactly what the repository holds. This is because archivists catalogue not at “item level,” a description of every piece of paper, which would take millennia, but at “collection level,” a description of the shape of the collection, who owned it, and what kinds of things it contains. With the volume of materials, some collections may be undescribed or even described wrongly. But if anyone thought that a report to the Surgeon General from a physician who saw Lincoln post-assassination existed, they might have looked through these correspondence files — which is exactly what the researcher, Helen Papaioannou, did. The exciting part about the Leale report is not that it was rescued from a “dusty archives” (an abhorrent turn of phrase!) but that since it’s now catalogued, everyone who wants to find it can.

Papaioannou’s own account is a bit more nuanced though:

Well, the record group I was currently searching was the records of the Office of the Surgeon General. And I was looking through his letters received, and I was in the L’s. And I was going through 1865, so I – since Lincoln died in 1865. I was almost finished with L and there it was, sitting right in the middle of a box.

This account makes it sound more like she was combing various record groups looking for correspondence from Lincoln, and accidentally ran across a letter from Leale, that was filed nearby…and she happened to notice that it was about Lincoln, and subsequently that the documents existence was not known. So Papaioannou didn’t suspect that the report to the Surgeon General existed, and go searching for it. She was instead examining various record groups for any correspondence from Lincoln, and was alert enough to notice something as she was moving through the collection. And most importantly she recognized that the document was not known to the historical community: the all important context, that is not completely knowable by any individual cataloger or archivist. At least that’s how I’m reading it.

Saying that there is no discovery in libraries and archives, because all the discovery has been pre-coordinated by librarians and archivists is putting the case for the work we do too strongly. It doesn’t give enough credit to the acts of discovery and creativity that library users like Papaioannou perform, and which our institutions depend on. I’m not an expert, but it seems to me that the lines that divide the historian and the archivist are more or less semi-permeable, especially since what is historic research gets archived itself, and archivists end up doing their own flavor of historical research when documenting the provenance of a collection. If we care about the future of libraries and archives we need to not only pat ourselves on the back for the work we do, but we need to recognize and appreciate the real work that goes on inside our buildings and on our websites.

And yes it’s great that the letter is now cataloged for re-discovery. But even better (for me) was that I was able to read the Atlantic piece, do some searches, and then go and listen to an interview with Papaioannou, and read the announcement from the Lincoln Library which includes a transcription of the actual letter.

…and then go and update the Wikipedia entry for Charles Leale to include information about the (very real) discovery of the letter.

Hopefully it won’t get reverted :-)